In the Blood
by Izzie Jackson
Summary: With the looming threat of dark forces planning to overcome Beacon Hills, Marin Morell, whose real name is Emily Bennett, makes a choice to bring not only her descendants Lucy and Bonnie but risks seeing her mate, Niklaus Mikaelson after a hundred and sixty-four years. Meanwhile Stiles begins having nightmares again of a life he might have had long ago.
1. Dreaming as If Death Itself Was Undone

**In the Blood **

With the looming threat of dark forces planning to overcome Beacon Hills, Marin Morell, whose real name is Emily Bennett, makes a choice to bring not only her descendants Lucy and Bonnie but risks seeing her mate, Niklaus Mikaelson after a hundred and sixty-four years. Meanwhile Stiles begins having nightmares again of a life he might have had long ago. Can Lydia, Scott and Derek help him? Post season 4 of Vampire Diaries with a AU content, after 3A of Teen Wolf.

* * *

I.

Dreaming as if Death Itself Was Undone

He was running through the forest. His lungs were burning and his legs were starting to give. He didn't know how long he had been running, but he knew he couldn't stop. If he stopped he was dead. If he so much as looked behind him he was sure he would freeze in fear. The pounding of his heart, pumping blood through his veins, the very instinct to survive is what was driving him.

That and the snarling, inhumane sounds he heard not too far off.

He pushed faster, trying to keep going. He was fighting a losing battle. He knew he was.

He was going to die here, in this forest. Killed by the savage beasts his father warned him to stay away from. He stopped, bracing himself against a tree to catch his breath. In the distance, away from the snarling sounds of his possible death, was a voice calling out to him. The voice told him to keep running. It grew closer and he felt someone grab his shoulders.

"What are you doing? We must not stop here. They will catch us!"

They never should have come, he thinks as he turns his head, seeing the figures in the distance growling closer. They would die tonight. Both of them. He looked back at his companion. Frighten blue eyes and golden colored locks that framed his face. He shook his head.

If one of them was to die, he was almost sure it would be him. Not his companion.

He could not bare to lose him.

"We have to go!" cried the older man.

"I know. Come on!" he said and grabbed his hand, running through the woods. His breathing was still labored, his lung burning as they pushed what little oxygen it had been able to receive in his short break. He let go of his companion and watched as they rushed ahead, telling him to hurry. Warning him not to look back and lag behind. He kept going.

Movement alerted him out the corner of his eye. One of them had caught up to them. And it was headed straight for his companion.

No.

Not his brother.

He pushed, racing towards his sibling and as the beast snarled, its claws aimed right for his brother's throat. He flung out his arms, shoving his brother to the ground, as far away from the beast. Its claws caught him, tearing into his clothing and piercing through his skin. He felt the searing pain as he fell to the forest floor. The beast above him was in the former of a wolf, one larger and more demonic looking that any of the ones he saw roaming the woods at night.

Its golden eyes caught his and the emotions he saw struck his soul: savage, no form of human left in its depths. The beast was in control and it chilled him to the core. He turned his head, watching as his companion began to stir.

The words "Run, get to the village!" were there on his lips but died where they had formed as the creature above started tearing into him. He could feel the blood run down his form, smell the scents of the forest, the wolf and the bitter copper of his life essence as it stained his clothing and watered the dry grass crimson. He could hear a name being cried out over the snarls, over his own screaming.

His name.

His brother was crying for him, begging the wolves to leave him be.

He turned his eyes on his brother, brown meeting blue one last time. Weakly he raised an arm, his hand opening and fingers extending to try and reach for his brother. Do not weep for me, he pleads as the wolf raises its claws.

A name escapes his lips, his final breath, as the wolf's claws slash his throat.

Life fades from him slowly.

And he wakes up screaming.

* * *

"They're back aren't they?"

Of course it would be Scott who notices something is off.

Scott almost always seems to notice something is off about him. He just nods his head. The concern in Scott's eyes only makes it worse as they walk through the hallways of school. He's going to ask. Of course he's going to ask.

So to distract himself as his best friend gears up to pop the question, Stiles takes to opening his locker.

"How long has this been going on?"

As long as he can remember, he wants to say. But Scott knows that. Scott has always known that. He enters the locker combination and pulls out his History book. He turns towards his best friend, who is still awaiting an answer. He wants to know. "Stiles, how long has this been going on?" he asks, his voice raising just a bit.

Stiles hates that. He hates that now that his best friend has become an Alpha, he seems to have gotten it in his head that he can boss him around. He shut his locker door a little bit too hard, causing Scott to frown. "Stiles," he began again.

"Don't," he warns, his anger seeping to the surface. Coming back to life after dying to save his father, the still bitter reminder that he was the only human (Allison may have been a human but she has some fucking perks being a hunter) in a pack of werewolves, and of course the fact that he now had to worry about his dad possibly ending up dead due to his involvement in the supernatural, it all did not sit well with Stiles. He didn't need this shit.

Not now.

Not when he's dreaming about being killed by the very creature his best friend has become.

"Stiles," Scott said, his voice cracking softly. "I'm sorry, I just...I'm worried about you."

"Yeah well thanks for that," he said, sarcasm in his tone. "But I don't feel like talking about it."

Scott looked like he had just been shot with an arrow laced with wolfs bane and made of mountain ash. "Stiles please."

"Not now Scott," he said, his voice firm. "I just need to think. Maybe it's a side effect from what happened."

He brushes past Scott, past Lydia and Allison as they head his way, with not even a goodbye or hello.

* * *

"What can I help you with today?" asked Ms. Morell, her voice curious. She reached into her file cabinet, searched for his file and once she located, pulled it out and shut the cabinet with breaking so much as a nail. Her deep brown eyes were a mystery. It was like she kept a close reign on her emotions, not even letting anything other than composure show. She waves her hand towards the chair in front of her desk. "Have a seat," she tells him.

Stiles takes a seat, dropping his bag to the floor next to the chair and leans back. She reaches for the pen in her cup. She clicks it open with her thumb, pressing the point to her paper. She arches an eyebrow, waiting.

"I'm trying to figure out how to say this," he begins, unsure of how or why he can talk to her so easily. She had been a part of this whole ordeal. Of him coming close losing his dad, Lydia and actually looking Erica and Boyd. Her and that pack of Alphas with their red eyes that remind of the blood that stains his shirt in his dreams, colors the grass a shade of red. He shivers visually and Marin's mask of blankness cracks, concern showing in her face.

"Are you cold?"

"No," he tells her. It's not a lie. At least that's what he tells himself as a chill of death sweeps into his skin. "I've been having these dreams."

"A possible side effect of stress," she interjects as she begins writing it down. "What are these dreams about Stiles?"

"Death," he says, his voice suddenly thick with emotion. "A bloody, gruesome death."

"Hmm," she says and writes the words down. "Are you feeling it's a possible side effect of what's happened recently?"

She meant dying and coming back. He shakes his head. "I don't know."

She nods. "Maybe if you told me what these dreams are about."

He shivers. "I just told you, it's about death."

"Whose?"

Mine, he wants to say. A death he's been envisioning since he was five years old and he woke in the dead of night crying for his mom and dad. As he got older, the dreams began to expand. At first, it was just him lying on the ground and then getting his throat slashed open. But as he got older, he started the dreams running through a forest. And by the age of ten, a few years after his mother's death, he had been dreaming of watching transform, heard their agonizing screams and watched as they turned from human to beast. Heard their bones and limbs snap and rearrange them themselves as skin became covered with a pelt and their mouth falling open in howls. He also remembers running with a companion. His brother, a man with blonde hair and blue eyes.

"Stiles," Ms. Morrell calls, pulling him from his thoughts. He looked up at the guidance counselor, seeing the concern in her eyes. "Whose death do you see?"

"It's my death," he answers. "I've been having this dream since I was five years, always having my throat slashed."

"Slashed, like with a knife?" Marin asks. Stiles shakes his head and makes a claw with his hand, running it along his throat. "I see. A werewolf kills you in your dreams."

He nods grimly.

"You said you'd been having them since you were five, this dream."

"Dreams."

"Excuse me?" she asked, puzzled.

"It's not just that one," Stile tells her and takes a shaky breath. "I've dreamed about a family as well. A long time ago, I mean. I have four older brothers and a sister. She takes after our mother, hair the color of a sun beam and eyes that are bright and filled with the curiosity of a young girl. Our mother, she was a stern but loving woman. But I know, in these dreams, she's also cold and manipulating. Our father, he was a man of pride. He wanted the perfect family and for some reason, he always picked on one of my brothers. He always bullied him and I wanted to stop it but I can't. I can never open my mouth to tell him to stop."

"But they're just dreams," Marin interjects, although the unsettling of her stomach tells her another story. "Stiles that is all they are."

"What if they're not?" he shot back and ran a hand through his hair. "What if, when I died during that ritual for the Nemeton to find my dad, what it unlocked the things I wanted to forget? What if these dreams are a past life?"

Marin slips back into her blank mask. "Stiles reincarnation is nothing but a myth."

"So were werewolves and druids and kanimas but you've seen them walking around."

He had a point, she realized. "How can you be sure this past life is yours?

It felt so real, he wanted to say. He wanted to tell her about how he felt like these dreams were memories long since passed. But how long? From the looks of the clothes, the Middle Ages; years before Columbus discovered America.

He looked Marin in the eyes, the expression he let show was one of fear. She could tell, he was afraid. He was very afraid. She felt her heart go out to him.

"It just does," he answers after a long time. She nods.

She might not know of reincarnation, but she does know what it's like to walk around with the memories of a past life. Even if she had not died—she had simply buried them away.


	2. No More Dreaming

**In the Blood **

With the looming threat of dark forces planning to overcome Beacon Hills, Marin Morell, whose real name is Emily Bennett, makes a choice to bring not only her descendants Lucy and Bonnie but risks seeing her mate, Niklaus Mikaelson after a hundred and sixty-four years. Meanwhile Stiles begins having nightmares again of a life he might have had long ago. Can Lydia, Scott and Derek help him? Post season 4 of Vampire Diaries with a AU content, after 3A of Teen Wolf.

* * *

II.

No More Dreaming

* * *

Stiles was certain - no he was a hundred percent sure - he was dreaming. He knew this because he didn't just happen to fall asleep during one of Coach's rants about the corrupt school system and end up in a quarry somewhere. It had been bright and sunny when he had closed his eyes and now it was dark and the stars shining about him were not as interesting as he thought they would be. Stiles glanced around, taking in his surroundings.

The quarry was dark, but the glow and roar of the fires going on around him gave him worry. He watched as a young girl with long dark hair, olive skin and was grabbed by a face he knew. A face that haunted his dreams. He was dressed more modern, blonde hair shorter, pressed against his head in a kind of flat style. His blue eyes were colder, reminding Stiles of Peter. Even the smile on his face reminded him of Derek's psycho, can't seem to stay dead, uncle.

He watched as the blonde man roughly yanked her head back and with a hiss, drove for her neck. Stiles dry heaved as he watched as the girl fought and tried her hardest to survive. But he could see her dying, he saw it in her paling complexion, heard in her dying gasps. He was almost certain he was going to hurl when she was dropped like a rag doll.

The man had blood smeared along his lips, his eyes gold like the wolves that plagued his nightmares. The golden hue bore into him from across the flames and he watched as they died out. He could see more corpses.

All women.

A woman with a wooden stake through her heart. A woman who looked like her heart had been ripped out of her chest. He could see the organ laying across from her and he wanted to vomit. He could feel the bile rising in his throat. His knees bucked as he watched the young woman who had been with him, a black girl who he could admit was beautiful, drop to the ground but the sickening sound a neck snapping was not something he hadn't heard before.

Stiles shut his eyes as he heard a loud scream. It was male and it sounded as if he was dying. Was he dying? Stiles wanted to look but he feared opening his eyes could only cause him to upchuck. He tried to take in a deep breath but all he could smell was smoke and burnt earth. The scream grew louder and he pressed his palms against his ears. He had to drown out the sound.

He was dreaming.

He was dreaming.

The screams got louder and he cracked open an eye to see a man in a well tailored suit standing over the blonde man. He knew their names. Elijah was the man hovering over the younger one, Nik. Elijah's hand came down like a viper, the sound of flesh being torn apart and Nik's painful scream made his chest heavy and his stomach churn.

_Please don't,_ Stiles begged silently. _Please Elijah, don't do it. Don't kill him._

Elijah moved, his eye determined and Stiles found himself crying out before he could see the whole thing. He could hear his shouting out for Elijah not to do, to spare his brother. But after that he found himself in an all too familiar setting.

Stiles arose off his hands and knees. He looked around, searching for them. Searching for the sounds.

They were close. He could sense them.

The growling comes first, then Stiles feels his legs moving. He can see the blur of blonde, tan and white even in the pale moonlight and know it's Nik. He can feel himself fall to the ground as he is caught and wolves start to crawl at him. He knows his death is coming. And yet, as the claws slice into his throat, drawing blood and taking his life, Stiles scream all the same.

* * *

It's getting louder, Lydia realizes as she sits in her history class. The growling sounds she hears, the annoying sounds in her ear that only she can hear, it gets louder with each second. And she wants to scream. She wants to drown out the sounds.

Drown out the noise that she doesn't want to hear. She wants the scream to wash away the feeling of dread and death; to calm to searing pain coming from her throat.

She takes a deep breath, feeling it crawl up her throat and just as it is about to pry out of her mouth, another noise sounds. One that has everyone in the class jump. A scream. A loud, agonizing male scream. And it's haunting because Lydia knows that scream.

She's heard it before.

Stiles; he's screaming. He's in pain, the voices in her head tell her. Go to him, save him, be with him. Tie him to solid ground.

She's out of her seat before she can stop herself and out the door before the teacher can finish calling her name.

Stiles needs her. He had always been there for her and she was going to be there for him.

So she follows the screaming, going from the halls to the music room. She sees Allison and Scott there; the hunter is watching helplessly as her ex-boyfriend tries to calm his best friend. But oddly, Stiles is backing away from Scott's soothing touch. He's crying out for him to stay away. He sounds different, Lydia notices. Stiles's voice is carrying a light accent. She can't place it but if she had to guess, it was English.

The redhead steps towards the two, cautious. Her heels make light taps as she brushes her hand along Scott's shoulder. Brown eyes meet green ones and she smiles, asking him to let her take over. The Alpha nods. He'll do anything to help Stiles. Lydia bends down, watching as Stiles continues to shake, continues to sink deeper and deeper into himself.

"Stiles," she calls, her voice a warm whisper. Terrified brown eyes gaze at her, trying to focus on her. "Stiles, can you tell me what's wrong?"

"I didn't want him to die," Stiles whispered, his voice shaken. She could hear him, hear some of the Stiles she remembers, but the accent was clouding it. It was like he was fully there. "I didn't want him to die, but I didn't want him to become a monster. I didn't want either of them to become monsters!"

"Who Stiles?" Lydia questioned.

"Nik and Eli," he responded. "I didn't die so that they could...so that they could become monsters."

Lydia and Allison frowned. The banshee turned to Scott, hoping for answers. He nodded his head, he knew what Stiles was talking about. Lydia turned back to Stiles, taking in that he was holding his neck. The voices whispered in her ear.

_"Poor boy,"_ they said in hushed voices. It was so fast she almost couldn't hear them.

"Stiles," she called and he looked at her. "What happened to you neck?" she asked and reached out. He swatted her hand away.

"Don't touch it!" he cried. "Please don't, I don't want you to see them."

"See what Stiles?" asked Allison. "What happened to you?"

"I died," whispered Stiles. "I died for Nik, to protect him for those things, and he...he became one of them!"

"Stiles," Lydia said and touched his hand. He jolted, looking at her, slight recognition in his eyes. "You're alive. Okay, you're alive and you're safe and nothing is going to hurt you, alright?"

He searched her face and reached a hand out, running a hand through her hair. His eyes began to droop and then when she cupped his cheeks, cradling his face in her hands, he smiled weakly as he fell in subconscious. "Bekah."

He slumped against Lydia and she blinked in confusion. Both she and Allison turned their eyes on Scott. "What is going on?" Allison asked, taking the words right out of Lydia's mouth.

"Let's get him to the nurse and call his dad," Scott said as he got up. "I'll tell you guys while we wait."

* * *

He was back in the quarry. Why was he back here?

Stiles looked around, noticing how it was bright out. The sun shined overhead and he frowned softly before he heard the crunching of the leaves. He turned and saw a girl standing there. She reminded him of Ms. Morell. Almond skin, dark hair that was more curled than straight, she was also small like Lydia. Her eyes were green, bright and luminous yet he could see a sadness there. Someone had hurt her, he realized.

He felt like he knew her, like something about her told her she was close to him. He wondered why. He had never met her before in his life. He look in the lavender tank top she wore and the dark blue jeans and dark denim jacket.

"Who are you?" she asked. "Are you the one who brought me here?"

"Uh," he paused. What was he going to say? He could always start with his name. Stiles cleared his throat. "I'm Stiles...and no I did not. I honestly don't even know how I got here."

"What do you remember?"

"Um..." he paused. "Having a panic attack."

She frowned, sympathy crossed her face. "I'm sorry to hear that. I'm Bonnie by the way."

He nodded. Bonnie, it meant pretty. And she was pretty, beautiful even. Just as beautiful as Lydia. "So what brings you here?"

"I brought you both here," they turned to see a woman standing before them. She smiled softly.

"Who are you?" Bonnie asked.

"Ayana," Stiles murmured though he thought he had simply thought it. The woman, Ayana, smiled at him before looking at Bonnie.

"I am in need of your assistance," she said to Bonnie. "I wouldn't have called if it was not true."

"The spirits," Bonnie said, suddenly sinking into herself.

"Are not involved," Ayana said. She looked at Stiles once again, sadness in her eyes. "This involves a great evil. One that is far more powerful than Esther and craftier to boot. You need to contact the Original Hybrid."

Bonnie frowned, "I don't know where he is."

"Your friend does," Ayana said. "I don't have much time left. I need you to go to Beacon Hills," she turned her attention on Stiles fully. "You'll need to have a talk with your guidance counselor again. She will help you from here. I can only give this message to you both."

"Marin? How is she going to help me?" Stiles asked.

"Ayana," Bonnie started. Stiles turned his attention on them but felt something pulling him away. He looked around, searching for the source and he barely managed a yelp when he was pulled roughly from the quarry. He called out for Bonnie, who had turned her head and rushed to help him. He found himself falling, but not before he could see a sinister smile staring at him.

* * *

Stiles jolted away. He wanted to scream but nothing came out. He wrapped a hand around his throat and then found there were no scars. Just like last time, and all the times before.

There were never any scars. He took a deep breath, recalling the newest part of his dream.

So Nik was alive, but he was some crazy werewolf-vampire hybrid. Elijah was as well and that surprised Stiles. He had not dreamt of Elijah since he was young. Were the others alive, he wondered.

Ayana was new as well, and Bonnie too. Although he was almost sure Bonnie was an actual person. Ayana felt like a spirit. A ghost of the past that he was sure knew the answers to his dreams.

"Stiles," he looked over to see his father staring at him.

"Hey," he greeted softly. "Sorry to scare you like that."

John shook his head and pulled his son into a hug. "Next time you decide to have a panic attack about your nightmares," his dad said sternly as pulled back to get a good look at his son. There were bags under his eyes, he was paler than usual and he could see what faded red marks from what he knew was Stiles scratching at his neck from the nightmares. John's eyes watered as he met his son's gaze, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Come to me okay?"

Stiles nodded. "I will dad."

* * *

Bonnie's eyes snapped open and she shot up into a sitting position. From her bedside, she could make out Tyler's frame as he walked over to her and handed her a drink of water. She took it, swallowed the liquid and then took a rigid breath. The other occupant in the room did not even move, simply kept their eyes trained on

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

Bonnie shook her head. "Can you get Caroline on the phone?" she asked, keeping her eyes trained on the other person in the room. Tyler shared a glance with their third party and then nodded to Bonnie. He walked out the room, knowing that she wanted some time alone with him. He dialed Caroline's number as he walked down the stairs. The call went to voice mail so he left a message telling her to get his house.

Back in the room, Kol pushed off the wall, keeping his eyes trained on Bonnie's. "What do you want to talk about darling?"

"Ayana," she said. Kol nodded and sat down next to her, waiting for her to continue. "She said you had a brother, one who died when you were all human."

He nodded again, his mind flashing back to the morning Niklaus came to their home, crying over their little brother's corpse. Henrik had sacrificed himself for his brother. Nik had said time and time again that it was supposed to be him. Henrik had pushed him out of the way.

Their family had suffered greatly that night.

Henrik, their innocent younger brother, had died at the hands of the beasts that tormented their village. He took a shaky breath, "Was that what she summoned you for?"

"No," she said. "There was a boy there. His name was Stiles, but when I looked at him it was like looking at a younger version of you."

Kol arched an eyebrow, "Me?"

She nodded. "That's why I am hoping Caroline will answer. We need Nik."

Kol frowned. He had not seen his brother since his faked death. He still was thankful Jeremy had been on his and Bonnie's side when they came up with the plan. Although he had been greatly saddened by the young hunter's death. He had warned Elena that the consequences would be dire. He could sympathize with the former doppelganger simply because he understood what it meant to lose a loved one.

"What does Nik have to do with this Stiles boy?" Kol asked. Bonnie sighed and rested her head against his shoulder.

"He's important to Nik," Bonnie said. Kol frowned softly. That was one thing he had not liked about the bond his brother shared with Bonnie. The bond a pack shared. Shortly after Bonnie placed Klaus's soul in Tyler's body, something had changed. His brother saw her and the Lockwood by as a pack. The charade the trio put up was award winning in Kol's book, especially when he awoke from his "death" to find Bonnie and Tyler listening to Klaus like two Betas.

Bonnie sensed her lover's distress. "Stop that," she said and cupped his cheeks. "Klaus and I do share a bond, as do I and Tyler. But I am not in love with any of them in the way I love you. Klaus is my Alpha, and like a brother to me. Tyler is the same way. Neither of them will ever grace my bed or my heart the way you do."

He smiled softly. "I'm sorry darling," he muttered.

"You're aware your jealousy is cute right?" she asked. He snorted. Tyler came into the room a second later and the lovers stared at him.

"Care's on her way," he said. "Hopefully she can tell us where he is."

It wasn't like Nik to just up and leave without telling them. So the shock of finding the manor empty had been a shock to them. Bonnie had not even gotten a chance to talk to him during her graduation.

"I hope so," Bonnie said.

She shut her eyes, remember running after Stiles and stopping short when a man with bandages stood in his place, a sinister grin on his face before he brought his finger to his lips, shushing her and Ayana and disappearing in a huff of smoke.

She had felt dread settle in her stomach before Ayana warned her to keep a close eye on Stiles, with Nik in tow. Something was coming and Stiles was in danger, everything he loved ones were in danger. She also informed him that she would find a friend there to help.

She only hoped it would be enough to get Klaus to follow.


End file.
